


safety net

by poor_sickies



Series: Bad Things Happen [7]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 13:57:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17045009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poor_sickies/pseuds/poor_sickies
Summary: “Good work, everyone,” he says with a tired grin. The muscles around his mouth strain with the effort of keeping his smile as if contracting them tugged on the deep nerve endings of his brain. It’s an all too familiar sensation, one that fills him up with dread.Shiro can’t keep this up much longer, and he knows it.He knows too well what the start of a migraine feels like.





	safety net

It starts out with a headache, a light buzzing in his ears, and a burning pressure behind his eyes.

Which is visibly bothersome at best, considering Shiro spends part of his afternoon trying to relax on the couch, and not trying to ignore it as he usually would. Unfortunately, this one is bad enough to kick down his walls of pride and discipline, making him lie down and counting the seconds as the pain comes and goes, making his breath hitch when the consistent waves of pain reach its peak.

That doesn’t make him cancel the training session though.

With everything he had lived in space, a little headache isn’t a big deal in his incredible (and growing) list of past ailments.

Shiro still sighs in relief when the training is over. After two whole hours spent moving and sparring while trying his best not to jostle his head too much (or the minimum possible to be able to keep his composure), it definitely is a blessing to have a break for today.

“Good work, everyone,” he says with a tired grin. The muscles around his mouth strain with the effort of keeping his smile as if contracting them tugged on the deep nerve endings of his brain. It’s an all too familiar sensation, one that fills him up with dread.

Shiro can’t keep this up much longer, and he knows it.

He knows too well what the start of a migraine feels like.

Sometimes, the buildup is the worst, not even because of the pain. No, the worse is the anticipation, the hours spent wishing away the inevitable moment when he would fall apart. Shiro is certain he’s probably in for at least a few hours awake, with the kind of pain that renders him paralyzed. This anticipation is bad enough to make him wish these migraines would come without a warning.

But Shiro is nothing but practical, and having time to prepare should be a good thing, right?

Not with a team to lead.

Back home, he would use the time he had in advance to take the necessary measures and precautions. When it’s just a headache and sore muscles, it’s not too hard to stock up on painkillers, reschedule any reunions or classes, prepare ice packs, and leave his comfy clothes nearby and ready.

It was even easier when he had Adam.

But these things don’t go as smoothly in space.

In space, there are no painkillers, the ice packs are pink, his comfort clothes are back on Earth, and rescheduling Zarkon’s attacks is impossible.

And if he’s being honest, he’s not exactly comfortable asking any of the Paladins to take care of him.

The closest to him is Keith, and even though they have seen and been there for each other through plenty of rough times, Shiro feels almost inadequate asking Keith to watch over him while he’s feeling this bad. Especially knowing that as soon as he shows any sign of distress, Keith will be all over him with worry.

Back on Earth, Adam had learned to give Shiro space when he’s feeling bad—it’s not that he doesn’t appreciate other people caring for him, but his disease had granted him plenty of pitiful looks and stifling caretakers, for years of no end. People constantly waiting on him hand and foot always reminded him of hospital beds and difficult times. So Adam had adapted. A gentle hand here, a back rub there, just enough to make Shiro feel better and cared for, but not too much that would overwhelm him.

But in all these years, he had never let Keith in enough to make him understand that. Back when they had met, Shiro always tried to be there for Keith, but he would be lying if he said he hadn’t done his best to keep it a one-way thing.

Shiro was there as a friendly voice, a helping hand, to lend an ear or a shoulder to cry on (even though the latter was rarely needed), but he always forbid himself from using Keith like that.

Even after the breakup with Adam, when he’d spent a few nights crying himself to sleep, and at least a few weeks quiet and so closed in on himself that even Matt had noticed, chest aching with the pain of an ended relationship… even then, he hadn’t been able to allow himself be vulnerable with Keith.

Things had changed a little after they’d gone into space, though. Keith has undoubtedly grown up a lot, and he’s always a good listener for after a battle or when Shiro has a rough day, or even when things get too heavy. They have become more equal, in a way. Keith knows and understands. He may be a silent presence, but always a comforting one.

But Shiro still isn’t ready yet to show this amount of vulnerability. Not to Keith, not to anyone.

Shiro steps into the showers expecting to feel a little less ill. Usually, cold showers help him perk up and handle the pain better. But somehow, today it throws him off especially when the nausea sets in.

He stills himself under the cold water, letting it hit his head. The light pressure and cold mix into a strange sensation of relief and pain, and for a while, Shiro stays, wondering whether the shower is being if any help, eyes squinting through the foggy shapes around him.

He doesn’t dwell on it. He knows how terrible and sensitive his eyes get when he has migraines. It’s not new, just annoying. The sick feeling on his gut, however, is more concerning. His left hand reaches for his stomach, holding and pinching the skin there, as if that somehow prevented him from the inevitable round of vomiting that would certainly come soon.

Shiro steps out of the shower, naked, gritting his teeth at the cold air hitting his skin, body shivering with only a towel, feeling sicker and sicker.

As soon as he gets to his room, he slowly curls up in a ball on his bed, human hand covering his eyes gently. Now that he’s laying down, he’s able to take deep breaths and try to relax.

He’s still naked, so he reaches away to pull the blankets over him, even though he’s still wet. He knows the violent shivers have little to do with the cold.

It’s a slight comfort having the sheets over his head, protecting his eyes from the light. But it soon gets hot, and the nausea manifests even strongly. His fingers massage his stomach, slowly and gently, pressing in spots that didn’t hurt as much.

He doesn’t know how much time passes, as he tries to focus on something, anything other than his throbbing headache and the bile trying to rise all the way up to his mouth.

He can’t manage to be too surprised when his stomach leaps upward and he vomits on the floor, luckily turning over in time.

Shiro doesn’t have much time to catch his breath before someone steps inside the room.

“Shiro…? Shiro!”

With quick steps, Keith rushes to Shiro’s bedside, avoiding the puddle of vomit on the floor.

“Shiro…are you okay? What’s going on?”

Shiro cradles his head in his hands, exhausted, groaning as he feels the room spinning around him.

This is exactly what he had been trying to avoid.

Keith looks almost panicked, the urgency of the situation pinching together his eyebrows in a way that was unusual for Shiro to see.

“Are you sick?” Keith questions, leaning closer. His voice isn’t particularly loud, or wouldn’t feel like it in a normal occasion, but for Shiro it sounds like something his bursting his eardrum from inside.

His skin stings when Keith places a hand on his shoulder. He’s used to the sore skin sensation by now, but it doesn’t make it any less unpleasant.

He buries his head on the pillow, trying to block his senses out. He’s oversensitive, and despite Keith’s obvious good intentions, Shiro really wants to be left alone.

“Too loud…” He mumbles weakly.

“Loud?” Keith frowns, before a look of realization appears in his features. “Migraine?” He whispers.

Shiro grunts in confirmation.

Keith swears under his breath, getting up to dim the lights. When he come back, he approaches with careful steps, letting his feet hit the floor with minimal noise, before leaning close to Shiro again. 

Shiro turns his head away, slowly, curling up tighter on himself. 

“Just need to sleep this off,” he mumbles, hoarse from the vomiting he’d done earlier, “I’ll clean up later.”

Keith says nothing, but Shiro hears him sigh. 

With eyes closed, he’s vaguely aware of Keith moving around the room with quiet steps, and then a squicky sound coming from the floor, and then something sinking in water. His head keeps tormenting him, the deep center of the migraine slowly burning through his skin, making him feel dizzy and lightheaded. He still shivers, holding on to the thin blanket as hard as he can, gritting his teeth through the excruciating waves.

The squicky sound stops, and Keith is moving around again.

Shiro stills, suddenly feeling another blanket covering his body. 

“You know, for someone who is always telling us we should say something and take a break when we’re not feeling good… I really thought you’d follow your own advice a bit better.”

The mattress sinks with Keith’s body weight next to where Shiro’s legs are bent.

Keith doesn’t sound angry, not even panicked anymore.

He sounds sad, which somehow is even worse.

“How bad is it?” He asks, his voice cracking mid whisper, with a kind of softness only Shiro and few others have experienced. Shiro’s eyes are buried deep in the pillow, but it’s easy to picture the sad downturn of Keith’s eyebrows along with his question.

“It’s bad,” Shiro grunts out, his low voice muffled by the pillow.

“Do you want me to get Coran?” Keith’s voice wavers, and he seems more worried now. Maybe he does sound as bad as he feels.

“No,” he sighs, “just need to get over it. I’ll be okay.”

“What can I do?”

Keith’s hand is placed over his shoulder, rubbing soft circles with his thumb. Shiro almost wants to laugh at how much that little action reminds him of himself—every time Keith or any of the others are hurt, Shiro always finds reassurance in a soft touch, so that’s what he usually does to comfort someone, and Keith’s fingers massaging his shoulder blade have him forgetting the pain for a little.

Keith apparently learned more from him than he thought.

“Hm… cold helps a little,” he says.

“Cold, huh…? I can do that.”

Shiro vaguely hears water hitting the sink, and Keith’s steps coming back, and then Keith’s hands gently on both of his arms.

“Okay, I need you to turn over a little, alright? I turned off the lights.”

Shiro exhales in agreement, trying to roll over with Keith’s help without jostling his head too much. It doesn’t prevent the spike of pain that follows once he lifts his head, and he winces, sighing again when Keith guides his head back to the pillow.

Seeing is difficult, and Shiro isn’t brave enough to open his eyes any more that just a slit. He doesn’t miss the worried and tense posture of Keith’s body, though. 

Keith brushes his bangs back, and Shiro tries hard not to wonder how sweaty he is already.

“If it feels worse let me know, okay?”

Shiro closes his eyes and something cold touches his forehead, spreading sweet, cool relief through his head. Little droplets run down his temples, and he quickly figures out it’s a wet towel. Keith tucks the blankets tighter around him, still brushing his hair back away from the towel.

“It’s good,” Shiro lets out. “Thanks, Keith.”

“Try to get some rest,” Keith gets up quietly, “I’ll be back soon to check on you.”

When the door closes, Shiro feels an urge to relax, to let go, as if being around Keith made him tighten up on himself and try to not look as bad as he feels. It saddens him, to have his best friend going through so much with him, and to still feel like he has to pretend around him. Around everyone.

The headache isn’t so bad now, but if he’s being honest, Keith’s company did wonders, like a safety net he could fall back on.

 

He closes his eyes and waits. 


End file.
